Soulmates
by ladybug114
Summary: "au where instead of your soulmate's first words to you written on your skin it's the last words you ever hear them say" Features 5 pairings: Layden, Allydia, Scallison, Stydia, and Sciles. More information inside.


**A/N: This a giftfic for my amazing friend Hannah, who got me into Teen Wolf and convinced me to post my first Teen Wolf fic on here :) It's based on the following soulmate!AU prompt:** **"** **au where instead of your soulmate's first words to you written on your skin it's the last words you ever hear them say"**

 **Warning for major character death, obviously :) Features the following pairings: Layden, Allydia, Scallison, Stydia, and Sciles. Each one stands alone, and each has some other AU stuff (Allison doesn't die in 3b, for example)**

 **Layden**

Liam had always been terrified of his 18th birthday. What if he didn't get any words at all? He knew, of course, that that was extremely unlikely, but what if?

He stayed up the night before, wanting to see the words burn into his skin at midnight. But then his clock read 12, and Liam's skin was still bare. His fists clenched and he could feel anger rising, dragging out the wolf that he still didn't have full control over. With a shout, he slammed his fist into the wall, heard the wood splintering.

And then his hand started to burn.

With a gasp, Liam grabbed his hand. There, on his knuckles, right where he had made contact with the wall, were two simple words.

 _I'm sorry._

"No," Liam said softly, knowing what that probably meant. A tragic death. Either he would die and his soulmate would apologize for letting him die, or his soulmate would die and apologize for dying.

He could only hope that he got to know her first.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

On the night before her 18th birthday, Hayden couldn't sleep. She was too excited, too curious, too nervous to sleep. She hoped the words would be special—one of her friends had woken up with "goodbye" written on her foot, and frankly, Hayden thought that was boring. She wanted something meaningful.

The clock struck midnight, and she felt her thigh start to burn. Eagerly, she sought the words. When she found them, her heart stopped.

 _Please don't leave me._

She swallowed, trying to control herself. It would be her then, that was obvious enough. She would be the one to die.

She could only hope that she got to know her soulmate first.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Things didn't look good, and Liam didn't know what to do. The others, Scott and Stiles and Malia and Lydia and Kira, were away, at college, living out Stiles' dream.

The dream didn't include Liam and Hayden, who had both decided to stay in Beacon Hills and take classes online, look out for the place. They were 21 now, able to take care of themselves.

Or so they thought.

"Hayden, it's going to be okay," Liam mumbled, pressing his hand against her chest, trying to stop the blood that was flowing onto the ground. "You'll be fine."

Hayden looked up at him, eyes shining. "It's okay, Liam," she said, somehow calm. "Just promise me one thing."

Liam nodded, trying to hold back tears. "Anything," he responded, voice raspy. "Anything."

"Kill all those sons of bitches," she said with a smirk, still strong in her last moments of life.

With a pained laugh, Liam let the first tears fall. "Please," he gasped, "Please don't leave me."

Hayden's eyes slipped shut. "I'm sorry," she breathed.

And Liam listened as his soulmate's heart stopped beating.

 **Allydia**

Lydia had never worried about her soulmate mark. She knew it would appear, was sure it would be sweet and romantic. From a very young age, Lydia fantasized about what words would appear and where they'd appear. So on the night before her birthday, Lydia stayed awake.

She was excited, much too excited to sleep. So, at midnight exactly, she felt a burning sensation on her stomach. With a grin, Lydia lifted her top to see what she had dreamed about for years.

 _Run._

"No, no, no," Lydia muttered, "No, this must be a mistake."

It wasn't romantic. It was terrifying, because Lydia knew that it could mean a violent or terrifying death for her or for her soulmate. And in the world that Lydia lived in, death was always around the corner.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Allison never really cared about soulmates. She knew a few people, a few family members, who didn't even have soulmates, and they were fine. So the night before her 18th birthday, Allison slept.

When she woke up the next morning, she sleepily checked for a new mark. When she found one on her ankle, she almost fell out of the bed.

 _No!_

For a moment, Allison's heart stopped beating. She wasn't expecting a mark at all, let alone a mark like that. A mark that probably meant her own death, and that her soulmate would be there.

And Allison knew that death was always around the corner.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Allison and Lydia went to college together, and then got an apartment together, a few hours away from Beacon Hills. They planned on living normal lives, but something always happened, and they always dealt with it.

They were 26 and tracking something through the woods. Allison was confident, holding her crossbow loosely in one hand, and Lydia had a Taser and the combat skills Allison had taught her over the years. They were ready for a fight, just like always.

The tracks led deep into the woods, toward a dark cave that the two girls had never seen before. With a glance at each other, they stepped inside, weapons ready.

As soon as her feet touched the stone, Lydia wanted to leave. "There's death here," she whispered to Allison.

"Well, we are tracking a monster that has killed a few people already," Allison responded matter-of-factly, smiling at Lydia. "We'll be fine."

Lydia smiled back hesitantly, but she was still worried.

Allison pulled out a flashlight, and they walked for almost 10 minutes without seeing anything. Suddenly, the ground started to shake. Allison and Lydia stared at each other, eyes wide, and the cave started to collapse behind them. "Run!" Allison screamed.

Lydia ran toward the entrance, Allison behind her, trying not to think about the word on her stomach. She could see the entrance, and knew that she was going to make it.

Right as Lydia's feet hit the grass, she turned around and saw Allison stumble. "No!" she shouted, and Allison looked up with true fear in her eyes before the rest of the cave crumbled and she disappeared from view.

And Lydia screamed.

 **Scallison**

On the night before Scott's 18th birthday, his mom was more excited than he was. Melissa McCall persuaded Scott to stay up, to feel the same burn that she had felt years ago.

So Scott stayed up, and at midnight, his right palm started to burn. His mother's excitement getting to him, Scott eagerly looked at the words burned into his palm.

 _I have never stopped loving you._

Scott felt the smile blooming on his face, already dreaming about who the words could belong to. Someone who would love him.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Normally, Allison stayed away from anything "girly," and that included romance and soulmates. While her friends talked constantly about what their soulmark might say, Allison rolled her eyes and tried to change the subject.

But then the night before her 18th birthday came, and Allison couldn't sleep. She tried to tell herself that she didn't care, that she didn't need to know what the words would say, but still sleep wouldn't come.

And when the clock struck midnight and her left shoulder started to burn, she found herself turning on the lights and running to the mirror. There, burned into her skin, was a question that brought a sad smile onto her face.

 _Do you still love me?_

Allison didn't know what that meant, couldn't figure out if she was going to die first or her soulmate was, but she didn't care. She had a soulmate. Someone who, in seemed, would love her.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

As the years passed, they all stayed in touch. They went their own separate ways, for the most part, but they made sure to get together sometimes. They never forgot what they had gone through together, what they had dealt with together.

Being a werewolf meant that Scott aged slowly, and he watched through the years as his friends grew older and older. Fifty years after he had been turned, Scott got a call from Lydia.

Allison was dying.

Cancer, Lydia told him. They could probably try to cure it, but Allison didn't want them to. It might not work, and she had come to terms with it anyway. But she wanted them all there.

They were scattered around the country and the world, but they came together for this. Allison's only wish was to die around her friends, and they all came. Lydia, Isaac, Stiles, even Derek. And Scott.

The doctor told them softly that it would be a week at the most, but probably only a day or two. Allison had never gotten married, had no family left, but she had her friends there at the very end.

"I want to speak to Scott," she said suddenly on the second day.

Lydia, Stiles, Isaac, and Derek shared a look, and then stood quietly and stepped out of the room, Lydia pausing to brush her hand over Allison's hair, Stiles to put a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Scott scooted one of the plastic chairs closer to Allison's bed, taking her hand in his.

"We had a good run, didn't we," Allison said with a smile.

Scott laughed quietly. "Yeah, we did." He looked at her curiously for a moment, and then added, "Why didn't you ever get married, Allison?"

"Why didn't you?" she countered immediately, and Scott smiled.

Allison yawned suddenly. "I'm tired, Scott," she said, her hand slipping out of Scott's. "It's time, I think."

His eyes watering, Scott placed his right palm on Allison's left shoulder. "Do you still love me?" he whispered, staring into her eyes.

"Yes," Allison responded, eyes bright and clear. "I have never stopped loving you."

With a quiet sigh, a smile on her face, Allison's eyes slid shut and she fell asleep.

Scott gently kissed her forehead, knowing that his soulmate wouldn't wake up.

 **Stydia**

Stiles felt ridiculous, staying up late to see his soulmark appear. That was something that girls like Lydia cared about, not guys like him.

But, if he was being honest with himself, Stiles was terrified. His history of romance was nonexistent, and he had become convinced that no mark would come. That he wouldn't have a soulmate.

So at 11:59, Stiles was wide awake, staring at the clock. The seconds ticked by slowly, and Stiles started to think that midnight would never arrive.

But then the numbers changed, and Stiles' forearm started to burn. Grinning, Stiles looked eagerly at the words there.

 _Have I ever told you that I love you?_

A joyful laugh escaped from Stiles' lips at the sight of the question on his arm, and he finally knew that he would be loved.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

They day before she turned 18, Lydia broke up with Aiden. She could tell that he wasn't the right person for her, even if they did have fun, and she didn't want to be dating someone who wasn't her soulmate when she finally got her mark.

So at 11:59, Lydia sat on her bed, feeling more clear-headed than she had in a long time. She was ready for this. She was ready to find out.

And when the clock struck midnight, the back of her neck started to burn. With the help of a couple of mirrors, Lydia read the words of her soulmark for the first time.

 _Love you too, Lydia._

Lydia found herself grinning at the words, and she felt a huge weight lift off of her chest. She finally knew that she would really be loved.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

When Lydia and Stiles started dating a year and half later, everyone agreed that it had been a long time coming. When the two of them walked into the monthly "pack meeting" holding hands, Allison grinned at Lydia, Scott gave Stiles a high five, and Derek muttered, "About time."

Everyone knew they would be perfect together, and they were. They dated for three years before Stiles finally proposed with a gorgeous ring while they were on a walk.

At 21, they were both still in college, and weren't ready to get married yet. But they got an apartment together, and then got their degrees, and then Lydia went on to grad school. Finally, after years of waiting, they got married at 27.

All of their friends were there, people they had helped through the years. The wedding was simple but beautiful. Natalie cried, and so did Melissa, but the sheriff claimed that he didn't.

(Stiles knew he was lying.)

Lydia and Stiles bought a cute house together, and a year later, their daughter Claudia Allison Stilinski was born. Two years after that, they had a son, Johnathan Scott.

Their family was happy, and Lydia and Stiles kept their children away from the world of danger that they had stumbled upon as teenagers. Claudia was a troublemaker like her dad, and was known around school for her genius pranks. John was quieter, but extremely intelligent. He loved to read, and his teachers gushed over his sweet personality and sharp mind.

Scott and Allison, who had also married but never had kids, came over every year for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and many days in between. Claudia and John loved them, and Claudia was prone to jumping up and down when she knew "Uncle Scott" and "Aunt Ally" were coming over.

Stiles and Lydia had the occasional fight, like any other married couple, but they were happy together. They both cried at Claudia's high school graduation, and two years later, they cried at John's. After college, Claudia married her girlfriend of four years, and Stiles was a mess at the wedding. John chose not to marry, and became an expert in his field of theoretical physics.

Lydia and Stiles were the proudest parents ever.

They lived long, full, happy lives, but they got old, like all people (and banshees) do. Lydia never lost her wit and humor, not even when she was 91 and on her death bed.

"Well," she said softly to Stiles one night, "We did alright, didn't we?"

Stiles chuckled softly. "Yeah, Lydia. We did alright."

Lydia sighed. She was lying in her bed, in her house, and Stiles was sitting in the armchair next to the bed, her hand in his. "I'm ready, I think," she said suddenly.

"Okay," Stiles breathed, squeezing her hand. "Okay."

Lydia's eyes shut for a moment, and Stiles felt a vice grip close around his heart. He could have sworn that Lydia was…

But then Lydia's eyes opened and met Stiles' and she said with a small smile, "Have I ever told you that I love you?"

Stiles grinned at her, feeling the first tear fall. "Love you too, Lydia," he whispered.

Lydia sighed, and her eyes slid shut again.

Stiles died a week later, and with his last breath he whispered, "I'm ready, Lydia."

 **Sciles**

The night before Scott's 18th birthday, Stiles slept over. They had decided when they were kids that they would stay up for each other, share the moment together.

"What do you think it's going to say?" Stiles asked at 11:55 that night.

Scott smiled at him. "I have no idea," he responded.

There was silence for a moment, and then at 11:58 Stiles said, "Are you nervous?"

Scott turned to look at him, confused. "About what?"

Stiles dropped his eyes. "Nothing," he mumbled. "Ignore me."

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the clock struck midnight and his right ankle started to burn. "Ankle," he said with a grin, and Stiles looked up, face bright again.

Rolling up his pants, Scott saw his soulmark for the first time.

 _Scott._

"That's it?" Stiles said with a laugh.

Scott shrugged. "I guess my soulmate is gonna say my name?"

Stiles laughed again, but Scott kept staring at the single word on his ankle, trying to decide what it really meant.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Two months later, on the night before Stiles' 18th birthday, Scott slept over.

"Well?" Scott said with a smile at 11:55, "What do you think it's going to say?"

Stiles flashed him a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What is it?" Scott asked, the smile disappearing.

"Nothing," Stiles said, shaking his head. He looked at Scott and smiled. "I'm fine."

There was silence for a few minutes, and then at 11:58 Scott asked quietly, "Are you nervous?"

Stiles looked at him sharply, remembering those words coming from his own mouth two months earlier. "About what?" he responded cautiously.

"You'll get one," Scott said confidently.

Stiles blinked. How did Scott always know what he was thinking about? He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the clock struck midnight and his left ankle started to burn. "Ankle," he said with a smirk, and Scott laughed. What were the chances of that?

Stiles bent over and rolled up his pants, and for the first time, he laid eyes on his soulmark.

 _Stiles._

Scott chuckled. "What, that's all?" he asked teasingly.

Stiles laughed, but the sound was hollow, as he tried to decide what the words really meant.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Sometimes, Scott hated the life that he was a part of. Mostly, he hated himself for dragging his friends into it.

Stiles, Lydia, Isaac, Allison—none of them should be here, none of them belonged in this battle. None of them should be standing here, facing down a vicious pack of werewolves at only 19.

Scott had told them it was hopeless, told them not to come, but they were all there anyway. Isaac with his claws, Allison with her bow, Lydia with her voice, and Stiles…

Most of all, Scott hated himself for pulling Stiles into this mess. Stiles was always there, and sometimes Scott forgot how painfully human he was. And not like Allison, who was trained in combat and fighting.

But Stiles was there, standing on his right, holding his metal baseball bat and grinning at Scott. "You ready for this, Scotty?" he said with a smirk.

Scott couldn't muster the effort to smile back. "Stiles…" he said quietly, "Stiles, you can leave if you want to. You don't… You don't have to be here."

Stiles' grin dropped, and in an instant he was deadly serious. "Yes I do, Scott. Pack looks out for each other, right? I gotta be here to make sure that you guys all take care of yourselves."

Scott felt a smile on his face, and he put a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Let's do this, then," he said, voice steady. "For the pack."

Stiles grinned. "For the pack," he responded.

And then Scott roared, and the battle began.

It was chaos. Scott and Derek were doing the most damage, but Isaac was holding his own, and Allison was holding the enemy back with a few well-placed arrows. Lydia and Stiles stayed back, behind the protection of the werewolves, but ready to intervene if necessary.

Stiles' eyes were tracking Scott's every move, making sure he was okay. He got slashed a few times, but nothing serious, and Stiles knew that Scott would heal. He would be okay. They would be okay.

For a moment, it seemed like they were going to do it. They were going to win. But then Isaac fell with a howl, a huge slash through his leg.

Scott was distracted, and that was all the enemy needed to move forward. Their leader advanced on Scott, and with one swift move, pierced Scott's chest with his claws.

Scott stumbled and collapsed, and Stiles screamed, "No!"

Ignoring the others still fighting, Stiles ran to his best friend's side. "Scott," he gasped, "Scott, are you okay?"

Scott's shirt was covered in blood, but he smiled. "I'm okay, Stiles. It was deep, so it will heal slower, but they didn't pierce any organs. I'll heal."

Stiles grinned, letting out a relieved laugh. Scott was okay. His brother was okay.

Suddenly, Stiles heard Derek howl in alarm. In the same instant, Stiles gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his back. Stiles locked eyes with Scott, who was staring at him in shock and terror. Stiles' eyes lowered, and in a daze, he saw an arrow head sticking out of his stomach. He collapsed to his knees, suddenly unable to hold himself up.

Scott pushed forward, grabbing Stiles before he hit the ground.

"What… What happened?" Stiles mumbled, putting his hands on the arrow. "Allison?" he asked, feeling weak and confused.

Scott shook his head. "They had an archer too," he responded softly. "Don't touch it, okay? You're gonna be fine."

Stiles blinked, his vision feeling a little blurry. "Where… What happened?"

Scott swallowed nervously, pushing Stiles' hands away from the wound. This was bad, really bad, and he knew it. "You just got a little hurt, Stiles," he said, trying to smile. "But you're going to be fine, you hear me? You'll be fine."

"It… hurts," Stiles mumbled, his eyes slipping shut.

"Hey, hey, stay awake," Scott said frantically, putting one of Stiles' hands in his own. "I can take some of the pain, but you have to stay awake, okay?"

"Kay," Stiles responded, his voice weak and his eyes still shut.

Scott felt hot tears burning his eyes, watching the black lines transfer from Stiles' hand to his own. "Open your eyes, Stiles, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Scott," Stiles whispered, and forced his eyes open. "Scott."

Scott shook his head in denial, the tears falling freely now. "No, no, no," he said, trying not to think of the word on his ankle. "No, please, not Stiles."

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, and his eyes slipped shut again. "I'm sorry."

"Please," Scott gasped, "please. Stiles."

"Scott," Stiles breathed, and then he was still.

Scott sobbed, letting his head fall until his forehead rested on Stiles'. "I'm sorry," he whispered to his soulmate, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, Derek was at his side, putting a hand on his back. "They're all dead," Derek said simply. "We won."

But Scott, holding the body of his best friend, his brother, his soulmate, knew that this was no victory.

 **A/N: Sorry for all the feels, but please review if you liked it!**


End file.
